22/10/2026
Take a good look at this picture.
This is Uno. He is standing in an isolation stall at an equine hospital, with a nasogastric tube draining more than 30 litres of reflux from his stomach. He has severe colitis, his intestines are inflammed, and sepsis is now circulating through his body.
There is no identified virus, infectious bacteria, or impaction responsible for what is happening to him. But there is a long history of drug use and years spent in an industry where medicating horses to keep them performing is considered perfectly normal.
This beautiful Dutch Warmblood dominated hunter circuits throughout North America.
And today, he died.
I am angry, I am heartbroken, and I am tired of watching horses pay the price for what the competitive horse industry has decided is acceptable in the name of winning.
Uno spent years subjected to the medication practices that have become routine in parts of the hunter world. Daily NSAIDs, Banamine, bute, and the infamous show cocktails that are administered with such regularity that trainers have medication schedules worked out practically to the hour, including when substances will no longer be detectable in drug testing.
I have seen the medication boards hanging in barns, the syringes, and the instructions given to grooms as casually as though they were preparing a horse's evening grain. How did this became normal?
If your horse needs Banamine or bute to get through two weeks of showing, why is that horse showing in the first place?
We know that prolonged NSAID use can cause serious gastrointestinal injury, including ulceration and colitis. We know these medications carry significant risks, particularly when used repeatedly or in combination. Yet how many horses are given daily pain medication so they can continue to perform, without anyone asking what is happening inside and why.
Then the side effects kick in, maybe it starts with recurring colic, girth sensitivity, ulcers, or changes in behaviour. Maybe the horse becomes increasingly difficult to keep sound, develops chronic inflammation, skin issues or respiratory problems. what do we do? We manage the symptoms, add another medication, and keep going.
The horse becomes part of an endless cycle of managing the consequences of the very practices that are supposed to keep it performing until one day, it can't anymore.
And then what? A new horse for the season, a lease that doesn't get renewed or sold to another home. The horse is now someone else's problem.
Uno's original owners loved him deeply. He was part of their family, a horse who brought extraordinary joy, wonderful memories, and so much happiness to their children. They celebrated his successes and trusted the people responsible for his training and care.
When they discovered the extent of the medication practices being used, they did something that is far more difficult in this industry than it should ever have to be. They said no.
They moved him to another barn and trainer because they were not willing to accept what was happening to their horse. I can appreciate just how much courage that can take in a world where relationships, reputations, money, and competitive success often dictate who belongs and who doesn't.
There should be mentorship, camaraderie, and a shared commitment to the welfare of these animals. Instead, there is too often judgement, exclusion, and an unspoken expectation that you follow the program if you want to be part of it.
How did we reach a point where an owner who refuses to participate in practices they believe are harming their horse becomes the problem? What does that say about an industry that claims to love horses.
Eventually, Uno was sold to what was believed to be a wonderful home with a young rider. His original owners did what every loving owner hopes to do when making that difficult decision, they tried to ensure he would have a good life. Unfortunately, that was not his last home. He ended up in Wellington, Florida, where injuries and ongoing soundness issues became part of his life, and the medication practices continued. He was facing euthanasia because his owner at that time no longer wanted to deal with his lameness.
The people who had loved him all those years before were not prepared to let his life end simply because he was no longer useful to someone else. They brought him back to Canada, giving him another chance at life. That is how Uno found his way to me.
When he arrived, there was so much physical dysfunction and tension in his body from years of injury, compensation, and pharmaceutical intervention.
Within two months of genetically appropriate food and body work , he was sound,and never took another bad step. But there was an underlying gut issue that I could never quite resolve.
For the last year of his life, Uno lived here with me. I never rode him. He was never used in any of our Equi-Veda community programs. He never had to earn his place here by being useful, productive, or capable of giving anyone an experience. He could simply be a horse. He could live with his herd, make his own choices and exist without expectations and that he didn't need to prove that he was worth the time and effort it took to care for him.
Today, as the veterinarian began the euthanasia process, I held his beautiful face in my hands and told him that he mattered, he was loved and that he was enough, exactly as he was.
His original owners are grieving a horse who meant so much to their family, cherishing the memories of the happiness he brought to their children and knowing that, when he needed them most, they brought him home.
Personally, I am sitting here somewhere between profound sadness, grief, and anger.
My barn is full of horses that have been labelled as cast-offs or cases nobody could figure out. Horses whose bodies have failed to meet the expectations placed upon them, or who have simply become inconvenient because they can no longer do what someone wants.
My education and practice in Veterinary Ayurveda have given me another path to care for these horses, and every single one of them continues to teach me something about medicine, compassion, and myself. These horses are not burdens to me, they are gifts and however long they have left on this earth, they will leave her free from the imprints of the human experience.
Yet Uno’s passing has lit a fire in me, because I will not accept that this is just another unfortunate ending. I cannot accept that medicating horses into the show ring, masking their pain, manipulating their behaviour, and pushing them beyond what their bodies can tolerate has become so ingrained in parts of this industry that people barely question it anymore.
I have seen horses given medication cocktails to get them through competitions, heard the whispers about the trainers who give ACTH injections in an attempt to dull hunters through physiological stress and exhaustion, with the expectation that they will be quieter in the ring the following morning.
Please think about what that means. We are so desperate to manufacture the perfect performance that we are willing to manipulate the animal's own biology to get it and then we call it horsemanship.
When did a ribbon or a trainer's reputation become worth more than the physical and emotional welfare of the animal responsible for earning it?
And when did we become so comfortable looking the other way?
The Emergency Vets who treat severe NSAID-associated gastrointestinal injury understand how devastating these complications can be. Yet somewhere between the hospital and the show ring, that knowledge seems to lose its urgency and relevance.
I am not suggesting that every trainer participates in these practices. There are wonderful trainers and veterinarians who put the welfare of their horses first.
But there are also practices that have been normalized for far too long, and pretending otherwise is not protecting the sport. It is protecting the people who benefit from looking the other way.
What I am asking you on behalf of Uno all the others who can’t speak for themselves is this...
If you are a trainer loading syringes at the show to help a horse get through another round of competition, please remember this image. If that horse needs repeated pain medication just to make it around the ring, load it on the trailer and take it home.
Choose the animal, not the sport.
If you are an owner who knows your horse is being given medication cocktails as part of routine show preparation, please find the courage to say no. Ask questions. Understand what is being administered and why. Do not allow the fear of being judged, excluded, or losing your place in a barn to silence you.
Your horse has no voice in those decisions. You are the one who has to speak for them.
If your horse is on long-term Previcox , please take those warning labels seriously. Understand the risks, discuss the duration of treatment (7-14 days max) Just because something has become common practice does not mean it is harmless.
Showing horses and putting their health first are not mutually exclusive. They should be synonymous.
I am not suggesting that anyone stops competing or riding, I am asking people to remember who makes their participation in this sport possible. The horse.
The animal who has no interest in ribbons, awards, money, prestige, or the status of the person sitting on its back. The animal who trusts us to make decisions in its best interests, even when those decisions mean walking away from something we want.
Uno gave people years of extraordinary performances, but none of those accomplishments made his life more valuable than it was when he stood quietly in my field, doing absolutely nothing. A horse's worth does not diminish when its usefulness to us ends.
His owners understood that. They loved him when he was a champion, they stood up for him when they learned what was happening, and years later, when he was facing death because he could no longer remain sound, they brought him home.
I will always have enormous respect for them for giving him that chance, and I will always be grateful that I was entrusted with the final chapter of his life.
I don't want Uno's story to quietly fade away as another heartbreaking loss. I don't want his legacy to be a collection of ribbons or a record of the shows he won. I want his legacy to be change.
Here's how you can help....Please share his story. We cannot change what happened to him, but we can refuse to allow it to keep happening to others.
If it encourages even one owner to question what is being done to their horse, one trainer to reconsider a medication practice, or one rider to choose their horse's welfare over the next competition, then Uno will have accomplished something far more meaningful than anything he ever won in a show ring.
Rest peacefully, beautiful boy. You were loved for everything you were, not for anything you could do.🙏❤️
